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“Outside the Grandline Hotel on Fifth, got it. Thanks. Keep it going,” she said to McNab.
She wanted to watch him.
She studied his face when she could see it, his body language as she contacted the hotel. “Show me what you have on departure,” she told McNab once Reinhold walked into the café.
She repeated her name and identification data to the hotel clerk. “Do you have a Reinhold, Jerald registered?”
“One moment, Lieutenant … We have no one by that name.”
“A checkout? Today.”
“There’s nothing in our records.”
“What time did you come on shift?”
“Nine P.M.”
Too late, Eve thought, but there would be security cams.
“I’m coming in. I’ll need to see your security discs for today, starting at seven-thirty. All of them, all day.”
She didn’t wait for an agreement, just clicked off.
“You’ve got him walking south.”
“Yeah, then we get to this sector here, we catch him for a nano crossing over west, and that’s when we lose him.” McNab took another deep suck of whatever overly sweet drink he’d chosen. “Most building cams here have a shorter range. If he’d gone into any of the buildings, the search would’ve nabbed him.”
“Opposite direction from the hotel where he got the cab,” she considered. “Unlikely he was going back there.”
She paced for a moment. “He knows we’re looking for him, knows we’ll find Nuccio’s body and fairly quickly. Maybe he thinks it’ll be tomorrow, but still quick enough. He’s not going to grab a cab near her place, so he needs to stay on foot long enough to put some distance between any pickup and the crime scene. Smug smile on his face, just strolling along. World’s his clam.”
“Oyster,” Roarke corrected when McNab’s brows drew together in puzzlement.
“He’s too cocky-looking not to have another hole ready to crawl into. The Village maybe, or SoHo, Tribeca. Or maybe he walked south, and then caught an uptown bus. Tucked in by now, wherever the hell he is. I’m going to check out the hotel.”
“I’m with you,” Roarke said and pushed to his feet.
“Do you want me to keep running the search, Lieutenant?”
She considered it, shook her head. “We’ve got what we’re going to get, and it’ll have to be good enough. Peabody’s using the crib.”
McNab’s face brightened. “Oh yeah?”
“And don’t even think about doing the deed in there.” She strode out, knowing he’d probably do more than think about it.
She decided to risk the elevator, breathed a little easier when she found it empty.
“What kind of a place is the Grandline?”
“I thought you might ask.” Roarke tapped his PPC. “Midsized business hotel, twenty-four-hour services to accommodate the business traveler.”
“A step down from The Manor.”
“Well, most are.”
She scowled when the doors opened and a pair of uniforms dragged in a pair of bloody, battered, still spitting street LCs.
“It’s my corner, you thieving whore-bitch.”
